Thunderstorms
by x-menobsessed26
Summary: Scott helps Jean handle a childhood fear. One-shot


Scott was sitting on his bed, watching as the bright flashes came through his window, marking the obvious beginnings of the severe thunderstorm the news had warned them about the night before. The light always fascinated him, and how it could create such a loud noise as the crashes which followed. Though the white light was always now tinted pink with his red sleeping goggles, it still impressed him.

It was June 18th, only a couple of weeks into summer. It was going to be a long summer, with many such opportunities for more impressive weather displays if their resident weather witch was any source to go by.

A light knock came at his door, so light he almost didn't hear it. He wouldn't have if it would have been hidden beneath the thunder which rumbled a millisecond after.

His head came off his pillow as he waited and a moment later, the knock sounded again. He didn't know what to do, but before he could think, the door opened. Jean stepped through his doorway tentatively, her eyes squeezed shut, ineffectively if her flinch at the next flash was any indication.

"Jean? Are you okay?"

What a stupid question for him to ask! He knew she was terrified of thunderstorms, had been since she was a little girl. His face heated a bit realizing, but she didn't take any offense. Never did.

Her own face reddened a touch, though he couldn't tell in the darkness. She shook her head, "No."

She small, scared whisper didn't sound like his outgoing friend.

"Come here."

Knowing she wouldn't open her eyes to see it anyway, he opened his arms. However, she didn't need to see it. She knew him well enough.

Jean climbed into his bed and arms, curled around him. Her eyes were still clenched shut when he glanced down at her and Scott chuckled, "You can open your eyes, you know?"

She shook her head harshly, almost banging his mouth with her skull, "No!"

"Do you really think I would let the lightning jump through this window and hurt you? Do you think Storm would let her lightning disobey her?"

"I think Storm would shoot you with one of the bolts if she heard you referring to the lightning as 'hers'," she smiled, opening her green eyes.

He smiled back, "Now there's my Jean."

Her smile quickly faded, "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he spoke softly, brushing her hair away from her eyes. "Don't be sorry. I promised I would always be here."

"I know, I know. I just feel so...helpless," she laughed sadly. "And then a little lightning and thunder and I go to pieces. I mean, I'm fine when Storm wields it when we're in a fight, but when it's natural..."

"It's okay," he said. "I-"

His next words were cut off by a rather remarkable crash from outside. It was so loud it rattled the windows. The flash was simultaneous as the thunder and then an orange glow followed.

"Oh-no!" Scott whispered as he stood out of his bed. Fear forgotten, replaced by another, Jean followed.

Out in the yard, lightning had struck a tree and it was now burning a bright orange, sending sparks twenty feet into the air. Rain kept pouring down in sheets of water, but it didn't put a dent in it. The fire was starting to spread to other trees.

_Don't panic. _Professor Xavier told his students telepathically. _I trust Bobby is sufficiently capable of handling this little problem._

Right on cue, the burning trees were coated in an inch thick layer of ice, the fire a memory on the charred bark.

Another bright flash came and made Jean jump into Scott's chest. She turned and buried her face into it.

"Hey! That tickles!" he teased.

"Hmmm-mmm-hmph," she mumbled.

"Stop it, Red. I know you're not really saying anything, you narcissist!" he continued prodding.

She snorted, "You wish. I just couldn't think of what to say."

He grinned, "So you just decided to mumble incoherently? That makes so much more sense!"

Jean stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed.

They crawled back into bed, Jean significantly less afraid than before she had come into his bedroom.

"I should do this more often," Jean stated tiredly. "You're comfy."

He rubbed his hand against her hair rhythmically, lulling her to sleep, "Don't get too used to it. I need my beauty rest too."

She yawned loudly, "Whatever. You weren't sleeping anyway."

"Goodnight, Jean."

"'Night, Scott."

They both fell asleep as the thunderstorms died and slept in each other's arms until nearly noon the next morning.

* * *

**Written during the impressive thunderstorms we had here in Western Michigan last night. It's 2 AM, booming up a storm, and I have nothing better to do with the internet out (stupid lightning strikes).**


End file.
